Mmmmm, this is yummy gypsy poetry. What an amazing line: “swing into my sway” … It reminds me of dancing, folding into another person, the pull of personal gravity, and wind blowing through trees.

“cover these melancholy
places with softer cling” … I also love this and know it goes deep. It makes me think of dryer sheets whose purpose is to soften things, keep them from wrinkling, and make them smell pretty. But normal ones aren’t working; you need a specialized variety.😉 And then there’s cling-wrap for covering food. But man, it sticks to everything and you just about can’t get it off—a softer kind might not be so smothering. There’s a very specific way your melancholy needs to be covered, or you’re just going to completely fall apart. Oh wait, that’s me.😉

I love your ending—like you’re feeling like bits of discarded things, broken pieces, separated tendrils that were once beautiful and living … but if they’re tossed into the wind, they’ll be revived and they’ll dance for the world.